Mathematics of Regret
by Wildcard
Summary: Artegor's very drunk and very talkative. Sinedd's stuck listening to way more of his coach's relationship with Aarch than he'd like to hear. Poor Sinedd. Slash of the past Aarch/Artegor variety. Mostly cracky humor!


Disclaimer: I don't own Galactik Football, I'm making no profit from this, and I don't claim that this is canon (though it COULD be). :P

Summary: Artegor's very drunk. Sinedd stops by his room to give him some news and gets trapped by Artegor's drunken ramblings. Poor Sinedd. Contains mentions of past Artegor/Aarch and Aarch/Simbai.

_Mathematics of Regret_

"And then," Artegor told the bottle mournfully, "He let me down. Right when I needed him most." He took another swig from the bottle, the thick purple liquid that passed for alcohol on the Shadows' planet tasting sweet on his tongue for a few moments before the sour aftertaste kicked in.

"Just like love." Artegor addressed the bottle again, "You taste just like love. So good when you start out, and then--" He gestured with the bottle to indicate the depths of his despair. Unfortunately, since he was quite drunk already, the bottle slipped out of his hand, flew across the room, and shattered against the door that was just in the process of being opened, thereby giving Sinedd a shock almost equivalent to that which he'd had when he'd lost his Flux.

"…I'll come back some other time." Sinedd said after a speechless moment of staring at the broken shards of the bottle on the ground and thinking how easily that could've hit him. He started to close the door hastily, but didn't move fast enough. Artegor had already staggered to his feet and was gesturing for Sinedd to come closer.

"Sinedd! Come in." The world was spinning strangely. Sinedd was blurring. He looked good when blurred. If he could only blur when running, then he'd confuse the other teams and thus become the best Galactik Football striker ever! Even better than himself. And Aarch. Oh yes, much better than Aarch. "You should blur more often."

Sinedd had absolutely no idea what Artegor was arguing about, but agreed on the grounds that it was probably not best to argue with drunk people. "Yeah. Sure. I just wanted to ask--"

"Sit down!" Artegor patted the bed enthusiastically, having sat back down on it to counter the world's spinning. "You're too far away. I can't hear you."

"I COULD ALWAYS JUST SHOUT!" Sinedd really didn't want to get any closer to Artegor. He knew the stuff that Artegor was drinking and it stained. This was his favourite shirt. He didn't want it to end up with blotches of purple – or even worse, pink, if the stains faded in the wash.

"You sound like Aarch when you shout." Artegor actually pouted, lower lip jutting out stubbornly, chin dropping onto his chest. It was a disturbing sight and as such, might be responsible for Sinedd taking a few steps out of the safety of the doorway and towards his coach. He really didn't need to see Artegor pouting. It wasn't that Artegor was the most responsible coach in the world, but he was the nominal authority figure in Sinedd's life and it was just plain weird to see Artegor pouting like a five-year-old who didn't get a puppy for his birthday.

"Fine. Look, about the match tomorrow--" Sinedd started to ask, only to have Artegor stand up and take a few stumbling steps towards him. Quickly, Sinedd stepped forwards as his coach started to tip over, grabbing Artegor by the shoulders and trying to support his weight, "ARTEGOR!"

"Oops." Now on the floor, on top of Sinedd, Artegor looked down at him woefully, "Aarch used to sound like that. He never liked me drinking. I told him that it was his fault I started drinking, but did he care? Noooo."

"Yeah. I don't care either." Sinedd tried to squirm out from under his coach, deciding that Artegor was far too drunk to make sense and that any answer he could give Sinedd would be useless. "Just – get off me, okay? I'll come back in the morning and we can talk strategy once you've slept it off and you're sober again."

"I miss him." Artegor had spent the last few hours drinking. He'd gone through enough bottles to open up his own store and by now was far too soused to care that he was spilling out his heart to a former player of his arch-rival's. Sinedd was here, and that was all Artegor cared about. He had a willing ear to talk into! Or, judging by how much Sinedd was squirming, a not-so-willing ear, but Artegor was far too drunk to care about that. "I miss him so much! He was my best friend." Cue a very pathetic sniffle. "My _only _friend. And he quit the Shadows to be with Simbai!"

"I thought he suffered Smog poisoning and had to quit?" Sinedd ventured, having realized that elbowing Artegor wasn't doing anything, as his coach was too drunk to feel it. It looked as if he'd have to talk his way out, or wait until Artegor passed out.

"It was just an excuse." Artegor refused to be consoled, flinging his arms out to express the depths of his desolation but only succeeding in accidentally hitting Sinedd on the shoulder. "_I_ never got Smog poisoning. If it's so dangerous, why did it only affect _him_ and not me?"

"I don't know. I'm not a doctor." Sinedd was starting to regret his chosen tactic of trying to talk Artegor into calming down. Artegor's breath reeked of alcohol, and the smell was so strong that it was making Sinedd's eyes water. Maybe he should try going for the blunt approach again. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"What if there is no tomorrow?" Artegor demanded of Sinedd, still using his star striker as a mattress without seeming to even be aware of how awkwardly they were situated, "What if _you_ collapse on the field and let me down and go off to fall in love with some Wambasian woman?"

"I won't." Apart from anything else, Sinedd didn't even know any Wambasian girls. He left that argument out, judging correctly that logic wouldn't actually ease Artegor's agitation. "I'm only interested in football. Now can I go?"

"That's what Aarch said." Cue another pathetic sniffle from Artegor, his sunglasses thankfully hiding the fact that his eyes were starting to grow rather watery. "He said he's only interested in football! He said that we'll be friends forever! He said that we'd be the best strikers in the history of Galactik Football! He said he'd love me, and then what does he do?"

Sinedd wasn't sure if it was an actual question or just a rhetorical one, but he tried anyway, "Quits the team and falls in love with a girl from Wamba?"

He was not going to think about 'love me' part of that speech. This situation was weird enough already.

"So you've heard about it!" Artegor said triumphantly, smacking Sinedd on the shoulder for emphasis. "See! I knew it! The whole universe knows of my shame. Curse Aarch! Curse him and his Snow Kids, whom we shall defeat!"

"That's what I came about--" Sinedd ill-advisedly tried to get the conversation back on topic, shoulder smarting a little from where Artegor had hit it in his excitement.

Artegor was having none of it. This was his time to rant! If Sinedd wanted to talk, he could buy his own alcohol and get drunk. Talking over Sinedd, he continued, "And when his Snow Kids suffer a crushing, humiliating victory, he will realize the error of his ways and come back to me! He will crawl on the floor and beg my forgiveness on his hands and knees! He will tell me that he was wrong to leave, and has regretted it all these lonely years and that Simbai could never satisfy him the way that I did! Not in bed, not on the field, not against the walls--"

"Therapy." Sinedd moaned quietly to himself. "I'm going to need years of therapy." Why had he quit the Snow Kids again? Aarch was irritatingly self-righteous, true, but at least he never decided to spill his heart to Sinedd! That horror was probably reserved for Rocket, and Sinedd didn't envy him that in the least. Artegor was bad enough.

Relentlessly, Artegor continued on with his own private fantasy. "—not in the locker room, nowhere! He'll tell me that he's ready to admit in front of everyone that he loves me, and has always loved me, and that he was wrong to leave and he's now going to join the Shadows as their assistant coach!"

"What?!" Sinedd blurted the question out before he could think about the fact that Artegor's drunken ramblings were unlikely to come true.

"So you don't think it's likely?" Taking Sinedd's surprise the wrong way, Artegor bristled up for a moment, eyes narrowed but still bleary from drink, "You—you're just like Aarch. No faith in me."

His head dropped down onto Sinedd's shoulder, and Artegor sighed, breathing puffing out against Sinedd's neck. His sunglasses were cold against Sinedd's jaw, Artegor's eyes closed behind them. "Aarch… I miss you so much."

With that, he passed out, trapping Sinedd under him. Sinedd waited a few minutes to make sure that Artegor was genuinely out of it, then wriggled free. He headed straight for the door, then paused, looking back at the unconscious man on the floor. People could asphyxiate on their own vomit if they threw up while blacked out. Sinedd didn't want to be responsible for his own coach's death.

With a sigh, he got a pillow and blanket from Artegor's bed, then put the pillow under Artegor's head, rolling him onto his side and dropping the blanket over him. He'd stop by the medical bay and tell the doctor that Artegor had passed out from drinking too much.

And next time that a match got postponed, someone else from the team could be the one to give Artegor the news!

_~Fin.~_

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**Author's Notes: **thilda asked for an M-rated Artegor/Sinedd fic where Sinedd was inexperienced and Artegor was constantly reminded of Aarch in Sinedd. Believe it or not, that's actually what I set out to write, trying to combine it with an idea I got from FemaleSpock's fic Phonecall, which is also Aarch/Artegor and pretty damn cute. Anyway, Netherworld's gotten pretty dark, and I missed writing humor, so you guys ended up with this, and thilda's just going to have to wait a little longer for her Xmas fic request. It'll get done eventually, along with the rest of my Xmas requests, really!

In the meantime, check out a piece of Sinedd artwork I did (remove the spaces from the link):

http : // ficklegoddess. deviantart. com/ art/ Are-We-So-Worthless-106146809

I'm hoping it works this time. I was trying to link to it in my last chapter of Netherball but it wouldn't go through for some reason! Fic title comes from a line of an Ani di Franco song (the song is called so what).

Review if you enjoyed the fic, please! I heart feedback. XD


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